Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Operation Dilation

2 miles.  Done.  35 minutes.  AND my passenger RODE in the stroller the WHOLE time.  Granted I did a lot of '3...2...1... blast off!' and shoved him feet ahead of me but whatever works.

On a totally unrelated note.  I have two facebook pages.  My part time job requires that I have a professional page.  Long story short I posted a story I did about 1995 on my page and asked people where they were the last time the Reds clinched the division title (which they did last night! hooray!).  I was looking for the 'where you were at the moment when'... not quite what I got.  Got some random comments.  People told me that's the year they got a cat.  That's the time they were working as a security guard.  Like I care.  Well one girl told me she was in first grade.  Then proceeded to post this on my wall:

"How old r u?"

A) in the words of my dear friend GHG 'none of your damn business'.
B) old enough to type out words, especially three letter ones.
C) older than you.

Let this be a lesson.  I should not engage stranger facebook friends in conversation. 

The Best part?  2 miles.  Done and done.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Says my doctor (1 of 9 in the practice) to me today. 

"We'd like you to be 2cm by 37 weeks" (that's next week kids). 

Yep.  Guess what, so would I! 

Then he says (I should issue a disclaimer here: this guy sounds like a quack, he's not.  He's a goofball and is one of those people who is funny just cause of who they are.  Before he left the room this morning he asked me what I was having for lunch... with the door open.  I had no pants on. Just a paper cover.) "you know we can start getting rough with things down there at 37 weeks."  Nothing like something to look forward to.

So is this homework?  He didn't really mention why but my assumption is that we're going to try and avoid major tearing and the smaller the baby the better.  She's head down and he says (by feeling my belly) she's 6 pounds.  He's done this more than I have so I believe him.  Sort of. 

So, homework for the week is to get to 2cm.  Intersting as it's something I can't exactly 'check the progress of'.  So it'll be like walking into a test and not knowing if you're ready. 

Gained 3 pounds.  Right at 25.  I'll be thrilled with 30.  Thrilled.  Ecstatic.  And the Graeters ice cream I just ate will no doubt help me get there.  It was black raspberry chip.  And it was free.  Come. On.

Walk her out.  That's what we'll do this week.  Walk the baby out.  Especially now that I have permission.

The Best part?  Head down.  Ready to go. 

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Front Heavy

36 weeks.

The Best part?  My earrings are cute.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Put it in the bank.

So, as I mentioned in 35, I feel good.  And, the weather broke.  Crap.  No more excuses to not walk or at least move some (except for the I'm 36 weeks pregnant excuse). 

I woke up motivated.  Ready to walk, at least a little bit every day or every other day.  Not only will I feel good about myself but the more I walk the lower BGB will get the sooner labor will come and the easier labor will be (right!??!?!).  You may recall I walked a half marathon around week 18 and was in pretty good shape then.  Now I'm just round which is also a shape.  So we loaded up the jogger and went for a quick 1.2 mile loop this morning.  Broke a sweat.  Panted a bit. But it was good.  Except for around .7 miles in (less than 10 minutes) Cannon wanted out.  Badly.  Wiggling.  Yelling.  Not happy.  Finally we started watching for falling leaves.  Seemed to get us home.

He just saved us $500.

There is no point in buying a double jogger.  Right now.  Unless this is a phase.  I have friends whose two year olds will sit and watch a baseball game or sit through a meal with adults.  Not here.  Perhaps it's something we've done wrong?!?!  More likely I think it's that he's 2, he's curious, and active and if he's not entertained he wants to entertain himself.  Can't say I blame him, there's a big world to explore.  But until he decides being pushed around is still fun (which clearly it is) there's no need to buy a double jogger or stroller for that matter.  He's not a rider.

On another completely unrelated note, went to buy nursing bras this morning.  E.  That's all I'm going to say.  Oh, that and the teenage girls in Motherhood Maternity complaining about maternity clothes always make me laugh.  Yes, I've complained about them before too, those who live in glass houses shouldn't cast stones, right?  Just happens that my glass house has a wedding ring (that still fits). 

The Best part?  Fall festival this afternoon!

Thursday, September 23, 2010


So I found out/ realized today (thanks to some facebook love) that today I've got 35 weeks down and 35 days to go.  35 is the first number that's felt close or closer.  Until now I've felt like friends who are due in December are further along than I am.  It also means if you ask me tomorrow how far along I am I'll tell you 36.. cause I'm further than 35 and that makes time go by.  So in honor of my 35/35 time for an update, no? 

Weeks 32-34 sucked.  I was uncomfortable, tired, got sick, if I could have induced then, I would have.  Now, I feel great.  Sure, I'm tired and going up the stairs my legs touch my belly and I feel like I've climbed Everest.  But, I feel good.  I'm not uncomfortable at all.  My heartburn is NOTHING compared to what it was and the pelvic pain is gone.  My left leg goes numb occassionally and I'd love to not have to eat every two hours (feel like I could die if I don't) but in the grand scheme, I can't complain.  Yep, I'll say it again, I can't com... oh wait. 

The weather.  It's 95 degrees outside today and it's September 23rd.  I don't live in the south.  Trees should be changing not dying.  And I'm not complaining about the heat at the 4th of July.  I won't complain about the cold in February (pinky swear).  I'm complaining cause it's freaking late September.  Oh, and Dan's still gone.  Washed my hair today for the first time since Monday.  Victory.  I won't tell you how many episodes of Handy Manny, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and Sesame Street have been watched this week.  I will just say that we did finger paint and we did play with play-doh and we may even make a trip to the zoo tomorrow.  May. 

So, back to BGB.  I'm all for an arrival anytime after 37 weeks.  In fact, I'd love to hear at my 36 week appointment next week that there's progress.  Let's shoot for a cool birthday.  10.10.10.  or 10.20.2010.  What's  not to love?  Cool birthdays and early arrivals.

Here's hopin'.

The Best part?  Dan comes home tomorrow!

Monday, September 20, 2010

All the Single Ladies

Could.  Not.  Do.  It.  No way.  I couldn't be a single mom (parent).  I mean a)I'd have to work more than 16 hours a week (poor me, I know) but b)I just couldn't do it.

Dan is gone.  He's been gone for approximately 45 minutes.  He's not coming back until Friday night.  It's Monday.  Holy eff.  Don't get me wrong, he's always traveled.  I just haven't been pregnant with a toddler.  We've been spoiled.  So, I'm not just pregnant, I'm leg goes numb while standing, peeing every 20 minutes, people asking if I'm ok, panting at the top of the stairs, pregnant. 

So, now, I go to bed.  Already with crazy admiration for parents who do it on their own and don't complain nearly as much as I do.

Pretty good chance at some point in the week I will trip and fall on a matchbox car.

The Best part?  He's coming back.

Friday, September 17, 2010

you had me at hello...

I think we're friends again.  Oprah and me.  Not best friends.  Clearly she's been replaced.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about first read here and then read here

Today was the first day, since the new season started, that I fought off cries for Elmo, Handy Manny and Mickey, and caught most of Oprah.  There were tears.  

By far my favorite thing Oprah does is make a difference in people's lives with her pull, her contacts and her money.  I am a sucker.  But seeing people's lives changed by this one person warms my heart.

So up first is a pie company (let's be serious, if Oprah says a pie is the best she's ever had, it's probably amazing.  I think she's had a lot of pie) that employs people with special needs to peel apples and such.  So this little southern bakery will now have their pies sold by Harry and David.  More than a dream come true for these women.  Then I find out they make a chicken pie that will be Harry and David's pie of the month for November and I'm pretty sure I have to have at least one around for the holidays (yes, they're coming and I'm planning).   

Then 50 brides.  All of them need a dress.  So, O placed a quick call to Vera (Wang, duh!) and poof!  They all get dresses, VERA WANG dresses.  But she didn't stop there.  What's that you say?  Can't afford a honeymoon?  Poof!  Airfre and hotel, anywhere they want to go.  

Then.  A single mom.  Who worked three jobs to put her three kids through college.  She's got 78K in debt and will pay it off when she's 93 years old.  Or.  Poof!  Gone.  Lady O will take care of it.  Oh, and she'll also pay you for a year of your salary so you don't have to work those three jobs.  Oh, and you want to go to Italy?  Poof!

What it must be like to be able to snap your fingers and change people's lives forever. 

I envy you Oprah (for a million reasons).  Did you miss me?  I missed you.

The Best part?  It must be magical playing fairy godmother.

Shouldn't have left the house...

I just wanted lunchmeat.  Boreshead to be specific.  Can't buy that at my 'normal' grocery store so we headed to another store.  I was armed, determined to get Cannon to sit in the cart.  I'm way too pregnant to chase him around the store. 

A cherry push pop would do the trick.  And it did.  Worked like a charm.  If carrots would keep him in the cart I promise I would give him carrots (Mom).  Got my lunchmeat and a few other things and headed to the self checkout. 

On a side note, I prefer the self checkout cause I don't have to make small talk with anyone and sometimes I just don't feel like talking to strangers.  Anyway.

Total.  $36.37.  Grabbing through my purse where there are plenty of wipes to clean up the push pop there is one thing missing.  One big thing missing.  My freaking wallet.  Not there.  No panic though.  I knew exactly where it was.  In my diaper bag.  See, we went to the Children's Museum yesterday and I threw my wallet into my diaper bag cause then I don't have to carry my purse.  It's about efficiency.  Until now.

So, where's the diaper bag?  In the car?  Nope. It was a quick trip to the store.  I had wipes, a push pop and a sippy.  That was all I needed.  That, and my wallet.  Diaper bag, on the dining room table.


Fortunately the push pop lasted all the way home and back to the store to get my turkey.

The Best part?  At least I remembered shoes.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

... just sayin'...

Why is it that a haircut for a 2 year old is like pulling their fingernails off, one by one?

He ends up with a balloon and a sucker.

I end up sweating.

... just sayin'...

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

made up for it...

So... if there was every any doubt.  I made up for the two pounds I lost two weeks ago by gaining four this appointment. 

It was either the:

peanuts and candy corn I inhaled all weekend (and plan to continue to inhale throughout the season, try and stop me)


chinese food I ate last night (chicken and brocolli what? crab rangoon? what do they put in that stuff, crack?)

Either way, don't care.

The Best part? Wouldn't take either of them (the pounds or the food) back. :)

6 weeks left!!!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

8 years left...

I'm not a gourmet.  But I generally consider myself a decent cook.  Not a big baker but I think my meals are usually pretty good.  I am not afraid to try new things and feel like I can follow a recipe with the best of 'em.  I'm excellent at appetizers and salads. 

I figure I have 10 years to perfect my 'Mom meatloaf' recipe.  You know, so my kids will say, 'I miss Mom's meatloaf' or 'it doesn't taste like yours mom!'  Cannon's 2.   

So, I decided to make meatloaf tonight.  I used this recipe.  Fail.  The only thing I really changed is that I used 2 pounds instead of a pound and a half cause I didn't want to throw away half a pound of beef (however, tossed way more than that of the finished product).  It was not good.  My meatloaf is never good.  The boys (Dan and a friend of his) ate it and (said they) liked it but Dan will eat almost anything.  I did not like it.  It was mushy.  It was too greasy.  It came out by the spoonful instead of by the slice.  It was not good.  It wasn't 'mom's meatloaf'. 

So, what's the secret?  Practice?  Age? Just cooking the hell out of it until it 'gels'?  I'm at a loss.  And it's not that meatloaf is a favorite of mine, but it's comfort food and it's easy and I feel like it's something I should have in my repertoire. 

So, on your mark, get set, tell me what the secret is!

The Best part?  I made good pasta and broccoli so I didn't starve.  Still not sure how/why the boys ate it (other than the fact that I'm 34 weeks pregnant and neither wanted to make me cry or piss me off).

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

Vege... what?

For two days I told Cannon we were going to the doctor today.  He was psyched.  So much so that he tried to go several times before today (someday we will learn not to share any information about things to come until like three seconds before the come... friends show up late... the concept of 2 days is lost on a 2 year old... it will end in tears).  "Go to see Doctor Hsu now" as he opens the door to the garage.  Well the day finally came and all was peachy upon arrival. 

Nothing like waiting room goldfish to get you ready to be poked and prodded.  They call his name, we go in. 

First, the scale.  Or should I call it a torture table?  Ask Cannon.  For some reason standing on a scale was similar to someone pulling off his toenails.  All of a sudden he is a clingon.  I'm talking climbing up my very pregnant belly to try to get inside of my shirt. 

While trying desperately to get his clothes off of him (usually something he's thrilled to do) the nurse (who could use a new dental hygienist or should lay off the Marlboro reds, I might add) asks a million questions they ask every time.  Poops normal (define 'normal')?  Is he drinking out of a cup?  Sleeping in his own bed?  Do you beat him?  Does he go to daycare?  Does he say more than 20 words (cause she can't hear him screaming 'get me the eff out of here!')?  Do you use a carseat (not kidding)?  Are you kitchen cabinets locked or do you leave the bleach out without the lid on?  Seriously, I feel like they rattle off questions just to try and catch you off guard or at a weak moment.  Does he go up the stairs by himself?  Yes.  I mean, we watch him, I mean he's fast, I mean... don't report us.

And now, Doctor Hsu, who is possibly the kindest, most un-intimidating man around, has grown horns and is breathing fire through the eyes of my 2 year old.  Between screams, gasping, and cries for help from me or Dan (thank God he came) all major orifices (not plural, I know spellcheck) and limbs got checked.  Now I'm sweating.   

Then the questions come from the doctor.  How's he eating?  At this point there's a decision to make.  Lying won't help.  But do you want to be judged?  Then I think about all the other parents these doctors come into contact with and decide we're probably pretty normal all things considered.  And quite honestly I would love for his diet to consist of more than hotdogs, chicken fingers, pb&j, grilled cheese, yogurt, apple sauce, cookies, crackers and fruit (yep, think I named everything he eats regularly).  Not to mention, the kid is little.  26 pounds and 34 inches.  Both below the 50th percentile which I'm used to (however, I'm 5'8" and Dan is 6'2"... it is weird that our child is so little). 

So, he's eating fine?  I guess.  He won't touch vegetables.  So I ask about the 'vegetable juice' knowing full well it's full of sugar and really not a good alternative for peas and carrots.  His response was polite and he said that we should limit his juice intake to 4-6 ounces a day.  Umm.  Ok.  So, we will be watering down the apple juice a scosche more.  And we'll be offering peas first.  The dog will be eating more vegetables.

Does he use a passy?  Interesting question.  No.  Sort of.  Not really?  Try explaining to your pediatrician that for a little bit at night your child sucks on a passy but it doesn't have a nipple so it's not really a passy.  He didn't quite understand.  Can't blame him.  Should have brought props.

What about potty training?  What about potty training?  He is definitely interested as I've mentioned before.  He now does this neat thing where he 'grabs' himself after he pees.  However he also asks for a clean diaper now when prior he was perfectly content to run around in his own poop for hours (if we let him which we of course did not all the time).  I am the reason we're not potty training.  Can't drink, front heavy, uncomfortable, irritable.  Not the time I want to be cleaning my carpets.

So we finally escape the burning inferno that is the doctor's office and almost instantly Cannon is singing and praising Doctor Hsu.  Of course. 

The Best part?  We don't go back for 6 months... or is it a year?  I have no idea.


So, in staying true to my quest to figure out how to make a living like the assholes on Jersey Shore, I discovered a website.  It's not going to pay me a dime but I'm hoping it'll help spread the word (about the blog). 

The website is and I think it may be a new obsession for me to find other blogs.  But, I added my blog under the 'humor' category cause I'm not saving the world or saving anyone any money (those blogs are a HUGE hit) and I figure most of the time I'm laughing at myself, my dog, or our life. 

So, if you like the Best part enough, even if you're secret stalker, click on the button on the right to vote for the Best part.

The Best part?  Putting myself out there.  Oh, and I started tweeting.  Thebestspart  Follow along!

Thursday, September 9, 2010


I've made no secret about the fact that good sleep has eluded me for the last week or so.  Until the last couple nights I was sick or had heartburn or had a baby keeping me awake.  I would venture that I got about 4 hours of sleep every night last week.  Not enough.   My 'small meals' plan may finally be controlling my heartburn (ie: I don't wake up with stomach acid in my mouth) and the stress of visitors has waned and life is returning to normal for the next 6 weeks or so.

With a small exception.

I don't often share tales about the love of my life.  Mostly because between myself, Cannon, and the dog I have plenty of interesting blog fodder and Dan is by far the most normal of the bunch.  He does have one slightly endearing, slightly disturbing habit. 


I wake up to find Dan sitting on the edge of our bed looking out the bedroom door which is cracked about 5 inches. 

"Dan, what's going on?"  He whispers something that I can't understand.  I laboriously sit up and ask again, "What are you doing?".  He's frozen on the edge of the bed and I instantly decide someone has broken into the house and he is gripped with fear so I will have to jump into action, grab the bb gun that looks like a real gun and take down this mofo.  "Cor," he says, "there's a rooster right outside the door."  "What?!?!"  "A rooster, in the hallway, get the dog so he doesn't go nuts!" 

Laughing, I touch his face, tell him to wake up, and gently break the news that there is no rooster in the hallway, bathroom or anywhere else. 

Back in the day I woke up to him walking around our bedroom.  When I told him to come back to bed his response was simply 'ok, but they're going to take your bike.'  And back to sleep he went.

Sometimes he remembers.  Sometimes he doesn't.  This morning he recalled something about a rooster. 

The Best part?  Getting to tell him the story in the morning, which reminds me he's not as normal as I think.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


My little boy is 2. 

Holy cow. 

Time freaking flies. 

He's 2. 

He is smart, so so smart.  He's a sponge.  He is a talker (wonder where he gets it?!?!).  He's funny.  He's adventurous and afraid of nothing.  He doesn't love to have his hands dirty (which I'm cool with).  He's little (odd given the size of his parents).  He's kind.  He's polite.  He loves Elmo, Mickey, Handy Manny, and Little Einsteins.  He has no idea who Thomas the Train is.  If it has wheels on it he's instantly in love.  He's a repeater.  He can count to 20 in English, 10 in Spanish and knows the alphabet (none of which he will do on command).  He can point out a cockatoo and knows that the beach is a habitat.  He knows every word to the book "Elmo Loves You". He loves to give and get zerberts.  He knows where his sister is and includes her in his conversations.  He is the most amazing miracle. 

Don't you worry.  There's more.  Remember, I celebrate imperfection. 

When he's mad, he smacks me in the face.  He kicks the dog on occassion.  'Mine' is his favorite word.  He's not the best listener when he doesn't want to listen (and his hearing is phenomenal).  He and I can't shop together because I can't keep up.  He does not ride in shopping carts.  He won't sit in a high chair.  We've really given up on eating out at least temporarily. 

And I'm ok with every single bit of this.  He's 2.  And no one's perfect.  But he's pretty damn close.

The Best part?  Zerberts.  And he's ours.

gurgle... gurgle...

So on Tuesday I was too sick to eat.

On Tuesday I had no heartburn.

Today I have my appetite. 

Today I have horrible heartburn.

The Best part?  Not knowing which is worse?

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Vanilla Milkshake

It was one day late.  We were on the edge of our seats.  Even went for a milkshake.  Dan was doing the timing, I was doing the breathing.  We were watching TV and waiting.  Bags were packed.  They were five minutes apart for a good 5 hours. 

Finally at 6 we called the hospital. 

Hellbent not to be one of the women they sent back home, 3 centimeters was a relief to hear.

What follows is what I remember from the next 21 hours. 

I was prepared.  I knew an epidural wasn't an option and I was ready.  We took laps around the halls.  Ate ice chips (which gave me heartburn).  Grabbed the handrails during contractions.  Around midnight I got in the tub.  A tub they had not used in years.  It was relaxing ish. 

Out of the tub and ready to make an attempt at sleep and my water broke.  Surely we're making progress now!  A new doc came on at midnight and she did the much anticipated check.  3.  Stuck at 3.  Worst news ever because it meant pitocin. 

Devil's juice.  Without an epidural.  So now it's like 2am and here's what I remember.

Clinging onto the bedrails screaming.  Eyes closed.  Didn't talk to a soul.  Couldn't even yell at Dan for eating beef jerky (one of my least favorite smells).  For hours, no one came in.  They knew.  Meds exist for a reason.  Don't try to be a hero.  There are no pictures from this time frame.

1pm on 9.08.08 an anesthesist who felt sorry for me attempted a spinal (temporary epidural, only lasts about 45 minutes).  Best 45 minutes of my life, ok fine just my labor.  I knew what it felt like to have an epidural if only to get me to 10 and it did.

Time to push.  I've got nothing.  After hours of screaming and slowly dialating I had nothing left to push.  Forceps?  Sure, go ahead.  Get him out.  She did.  3:15pm on 9.08.08 our lives changed forever.  Finally.

It was worth every single second.  And if that's the way BGB wants to come into the world, I'm ready, again.  We will of course give an epidural the old college try this time.  But if it doesn't work, it doesn't work.  I'm ready.  I did it once, I can do it again.

The Best part?  Tomorrow we celebrate Cannon Rhys. 

Monday, September 6, 2010

due date

Two years ago today a yet to be named little boy was supposed to arrive. 

That day came and went.  As today will without a major blog post because I am absolutely freaking exhausted.

The Best part?  Dragging his birthday out over a week.

Saturday, September 4, 2010


If you're unfamiliar.  Gym.  Tan.  Laundry.  It's one of several mantras you'll hear if you sit down and take in all the glory that is Jersey Shore on MTV on any given Thursday. 

Some quick background.  This is a reality show about 7 twenty somethings picked to live in a house and have their lives taped (this is far from the original Real Worlds with Puck, Pedro, and company).  It's the Real World for 7 guidos (I have no idea if that's a derogatory term but it's gotta be better than 'juice heads').  And it is nothing short of phenomenal television.  The first season was taped on the actual Jersey Shore where they're right at home, this season they're in Miami. 

They all have nicknames.  Snooki (known for her trademark 'poof'), JWow (whose implants rival those of Pamela Anderson), and my personal favorite, "The Situation".  This guy's name is actually Mike but he goes by "The Situation".  When he orders a pizza, that's the name he gives them.  And this guy is a genius.  More on that in a bit.

They go out 'creepin''.  They have the 'shirt before the shirt' (the wifebeater they sit around in before they put on their Ed Hardy duds to go out fist bumpin' for the night).  The guys refer to unattractive girls as 'hippos' or 'grenades'.  The amount of hair gel they go through puts any college frat guy to shame.  The girls are loud, obnoxious, slutty, stupid, and again, phenomenal television.  These guidos do work this season, in a gelato shop, appropriately enough.

So, what's the appeal?  Well it's several fold.  First and foremost, it's hilarious.  It's fascinating that these people exist in the real world and function and breathe the same air we do.  Second, it's absolutely 'no mind' television.  For an hour once a week you can enjoy a train wreck.  Third, and the reason for my post, they are geniuses.

"The Situation" will make FIVE MILLION DOLLARS this year.  Yes, a lot of you will read that and say 'that's what's wrong with our society'.  And you're right.  However, that's the world we live in.  So, if you can't beat 'em... can you blame the guy for taking full advantage?  Sure, he's probably blowing his money on Ed Hardy hats, hair gel, and True Republics.  Who cares?  These people have figured out how to make millions of dollars being themselves.  They are self marketing geniuses.  If I had half the self marketing skills they have I would have more that 27 (wonderful, thoughtful, caring, hopefully entertained) followers on my blog.  

Surely there are more moms out there than guidos.  Maybe I should pitch my 'Oprah idea' to MTV.  Until they come calling, I'll be brainstorming how to make a living writing humorous tales about our boring life. 

The Best part?  You will turn off the television feeling much better about yourself.  Unless you delve into the money they're making to act like assholes.

Thursday, September 2, 2010


Ok.  Before you go all 'me' on me and say to me what I would say to any of my friends who tell me what I'm about to tell you... let me tell you that I had nothing to do with this.  Before bed last night I ate a bowl of Grippos and 3 pop ice.

Had my 32 week appointment this morning and all is good.  Blood pressure was 116/64 (not sure I could be more relaxed), baby's heartbeat is about 140bpm, measuring right on time and I lost 2 pounds.  What?!?  I was hoping to only gain 2 pounds and stick with the 'pound a week' philosophy for the end of the pregnancy. 

So, I welcome all of this news especially at the beginning of what will no doubt prove to be an indulgent weekend.

Perhaps I should refinish a cabinet or two every day? :)

The Best part?  BGB is great.

move it sista...

So, a few times in the last week BGB has relocated and wherever she has chosen to sit has basically rendered me incapacitated.  I'm not talking about sciatica.  I can deal with that and that's generally isolated to my right leg.  This feels like my pelvis has cracked in half.

I came down the stairs on my butt this morning.


The Best part? 56 days.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

what did YOU do today?

I refinished a cabinet.  All by myself.  While Cannon was awake.  So there.

The Best part?  It's September.